Hanging just above the horizon like a hot medallion, the blazing eager sunlight outshone at my army. Its golden light reflected my sword turning it pale orange from white. The gold tips on our battle flag looked like it was on fire. They were bearing the crest of our lord. The metal armor laced together with cords of brilliant hues. The tension in the air was palpable and the horses champed nervously at the bits of their bridles. My ferocious iron mask was covering my face, but I still could feel rivulets of sweat cascading down my face. Standing still like s statue, I was rooted to the spot. The air around me felt heavy and unfamiliar. Everything was quiet and calm right now, but I knew that the danger would be started in a moment.
Outwardly, I looked tough and brave, but inside feelings were another matter. The feelings of hatred, tension and fear were almost palpable. We were acting like we were brave and calm, but we were actually as taut as strings. My body was shaking like a cobweb in a strong wind. Rivulets of sweat cascaded down my back. My hands were clammy. Shaking uncontrollably, my hands were unable to grip the sword properly. My muscles were tense as a rock. Thumping like a jackhammer, my heart was about to burst out. Rigid with fear, I stand still like a statue. Vacuumed like a deep hole, my lungs were vacant. The armor hid my jelly legs. Churning like a flushing toilet, my stomach was sick. It felt like my muscle was getting narrower and narrower. Trembling like a leaf, my arms were about to get ripped off.
Lit by the blazing ball of fire, the battlefield separated into half with a bright orange glow. The cloudless sky seemed to watch our every move. I saw lines and lines of gleaming armor on both sides. Gh...
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...ed. A beginner like me killed the warlord who was like a monster. As I thought we would win this battle, I quickly got the enemy warlord?s majestic armor.
Since I killed the enemy warlord, the celebration was all for me. We had a party since we won and I saw uncountable food that I never had seen before. I ate and ate until I felt my stomach was about to burst out. When the party was over, the next day, the emperor called every samurai and shogun. He announced that the luscious armors became mine and gave me the power of a shogun. However, I refused it and said I would be the top samurai instead. He admitted. My first battle became to a fantastic memory and caused by it, I could get to a higher ranking. From then, I got a majestic horse and easily won the battle all the time. As I won one battle, I became more famous. Killing an enemy?s warlord changed my life.
BANG, BOOM, BLAM,TAT-A-TAT, TAT. My ears are assaulted with noise, my eyes witness squirting blood a soldier is shot. I observe soldiers blown away by bombs. I see blood that saturates an infantry man. I view maimed men and observe limbs with fragmented bone. I witness militia dead on the ground. I listen to screams, grunts and gurgling blood in a man's windpipe. WHOOSH, flame throwers make a path with flames blazing burning men instantaneously. My eyes reveal the emotion that rips through my heart, tears drip down my cheek. I turn my head. I cannot watch a soldier cradle his buddy as he dies.
The Battle of Hastings saw the clash of two military systems. The Saxon army, centred on the King’s personal bodyguard of “housecarles", comprised the universal levy, the “Fyrd", led by the local leaders of each shire with their households. The Third stood behind and were paid during the way when other housecarls were slained.
First came the pride, an overwhelming sense of achievement, an accomplishment due to great ambition, but slowly and enduringly surged a world of guilt and confusion, the conscience which I once thought diminished, began to grow, soon defeating the title and its rewards. Slowly the unforgotten memories from that merciless night overcame me and I succumbed to the incessant and horrific images, the bloody dagger, a lifeless corpse. I wash, I scrub, I tear at the flesh on my hands, trying desperately to cleanse myself of the blood. But the filthy witness remains, stained, never to be removed.
Hearts pounding with sword, and shield in hand dripping blood, and covered in dust. Men
I think I’ve prepped you to accept danger unaided, set out the door, flip down your blast shield, take the first step unafraid-ed, so launch your path, level up from hobbits to jawas, pixels to bloodbath, stop at this tavern, then wear a disguise, you’ll know thine enemy, he’s the one with red eyes. Embark on your voyage, your crusade, your trek to a far-away earth, middle-, high- or low-, you’ll walk and you’ll walk, lose some of that girth, and finally arrive at your destiny, that one doom, that ironic fate, that M. Night Shy-a-malan-ding-dong for which you can’t
Brock awoke to the sound of a trumpet. He was ready to get training. Brock put on his long johns, pants, shirt, coat, and hat. Then he slowly walked out of his tent. When he walked out he was greeted by Major General Wayne. He said, “Follow me i'll show you where you will be training.” Brock followed him for a about a mile until they walked into a large field with hundreds of saddled horses, and about 80 other men. Major General Wayne said,
I squat down and cup my hands under the bent over body. I scope the battlefield and acknowledge the positioning of my eleven enemies. A million thoughts go through my mind as I decide which area I am going to attack. My warrior paint is smearing down my cheeks, and my cleats dig into the frozen tundra of the battleground. I feel like all the eyes of the arena are on me, as I yell my cadence. I yell the final "GO" and the warriors clash with intent to hurt. Bodies are flying all around me, but I don't notice them, for I am concentrated on one thing, to march my comrades down the hostile territory, and through the archenemies barricade.
The Creature That Opened My Eyes Sympathy, anger, hate, and empathy, these are just a few of the emotions that came over me while getting to know and trying to understand the creature created by victor frankenstein in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. For the first time I became completely enthralled in a novel and learned to appreciate literature not only for the great stories they tell but also for the affect it could have on someones life as cliché as that might sound, if that weren’t enough it also gave me a greater appreciation and understanding of the idiom “never judge a book by its cover.” As a pimply faced, insecure, loner, and at most times self absorbed sophomore in high school I was never one to put anytime or focus when it came time
I have received your letter, are the children healthy and well? How are you lately? Have you been sick recently? I am fine, well, as right as one is capable of being over in this land. I have thought of you every second of every day, there is not one moment I have forgotten about you. I just wish to be back home again. Last time you said that Henry was feeling slightly ill, I have some medicine stashed away in the bottom cupboard near the grand clock. If he shall start to feel very poorly, you may go there and find him medicine. You will know which one it is once you see it, I do not want Henry to turn out like poor Will did.
The cold wind rushing past me. The sun’s rays of light covered by the darkness of the clouds. Hooves, galloping along the floor. Dust surrounding me. My tight grip on my spear, my gallant horse’s hooves flying across the field.
There was no feeling like it. The thrill of war. The heat of a battle. Nothing in the world could compare. It was neither positive nor negative. It just consumed everything; mind, body and spirit. All senses turn off; the only thing he felt was the weapon in his hand and the only things he saw were his targets.
When my brother and I weren't at "battle," I would lay beneath my oak tree and daydream. As I looked up I could see millions of branches protecting me from everything above. At the end of each branch were hundreds of more leaves that would gently catch the morning dew, and carefully allowed it to make its way to the grass. It was like thousands of stars in the sky as the sun caught the drops and allowed them to sparkle so brightly. This was my heaven, and as I lay there, I could feel the plush grass, like a snuggly old blanket, holding my body gently against the ground.
she always used to wish for a way to escape her life. She saw memories
	The pounding of shells, the mines, the death traps, the massive, blind destruction, the acrid stench of rotting flesh, the communal graves, the charred bodies, and the fear. These are the images of war. War has changed over the centuries from battles of legions of ironclad soldiers enveloped in glimmering armor fighting for what they believe to senseless acts of guerrilla warfare against those too coward to be draft-dodgers. Those who were there, who experienced the terror first hand were deeply effected and changed forever. In their retinas, images of blood and gore are burned for the rest of their life.
From far away, elevated buildings are shining and competing each other who can be the brightest. Ironically, doomed and unoccupied lands take the most of the scene, which sets up the division on this earthly land. The shimmering lights are gathering as they form a trail of lines. It looks like the civil war had also begun on this landscape. As these l...